Three Times
by Nekosblackrose
Summary: Three times that Mark told Roger that he loved him. Three times that Roger laughed. It takes a rather violent wake-up call for Roger to realize that he feels a lot more for his best friend than he ever thought he could. (Post-Rent. Rated T for language and alcohol consumption.)


**A/N: Wow, I'm on a roll with the Marker fics XD Anyway, this isn't as good as it could be, but I was half dead when I finished it so...I'm sorry about the crappy quality. I might edit it later, but for now I'm just gonna leave it like this. I hope you guys enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Rent. Mr. Larson does.

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The first time Mark told Roger he loved him was before April. Roger was home for once after a gig instead of going out with a groupie to get high. He was on the couch playing through a song on his guitar, his eyes glassy from his latest hit. A fresh puncture on his arm from the needle. Mark had approached him, leaning against the back of the couch, watching him as he played.

"What's on your mind, Marky?" Roger asked with a wide grin.

"I love you," Mark replied. He hadn't meant for those three little words to slip out. He'd kept them under lock and key in his heart for so long, since he and Roger had been in high school together. Roger blinked at Mark before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

"That's a poor joke, Mark," He said with a wide grin. Mark sighed and shook his head. Instead of corrected Roger about it not being a joke he let it drop. At least he knew now that Roger really didn't love him. He left Roger on the couch in his blissful smack induced high and went out to film...something.

The second time Mark told Roger that he loved him was after April and the withdrawals and the heavy news about him having AIDs. Before Mimi. Roger was moping on the couch, playing Musetta's Waltz for the third time that day. Mark came in after filming and sat down on the couch beside him, looking down at the floor. He thought that maybe...just maybe Roger would return his feelings. He'd been high the last time he'd told him. Now that he was clean...maybe he wouldn't take it as a joke.

"Hey, Roger...I've got something I need to tell you," He said, without looking up at him. Roger paused in his playing and looked over at his friend.

"What is it?" He asked, sitting up and laying his guitar down on the floor. Mark chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"I love you," He said finally looking over at Roger. "I've loved you for a while now. I just...never really found a good time to tell you." Roger snorted and smirked at Mark.

"Nice joke, Marky," He said, reaching to ruffle Mark's hair. Again, he was calling it a joke! Even though he was clean. Mark glared at Roger and shoved his hand away.

"I'm not joking, Roger!" He shouted at him, standing. "I'm being serious!" Roger blinked and stared up at Mark. The filmmaker's hands were balled into fists at his side, but that didn't hide the way they were shaking from nerves.

"Sorry, Mark. But...I just don't feel the same," He said, picking his guitar back up and returning to his 'work' as though nothing had happened. Typical. Mark scoffed and turned, grabbing his messenger bag and camera.

"Just forget it," He spat before leaving to loft, slamming the door behind him. Damn it. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What had made him think that Roger would feel anything but friendship towards him? After that, things between them went back to something close to normal. But, Mark was more closed off than he normally was.

Mimi came around and things seemed okay. Roger helped her get off of smack and loved her. Then she died. Her time had almost been up as it was. He moped around and didn't leave the loft. Not even to go to the roof to try and find inspiration in that bird's eye view of the city.

The third time Mark told Roger he loved him, he was drunk and depressed. Desperate. He came out of his room with a bottle of vodka clutched tightly in his fist. He stared at Roger until Roger looked up at him.

"...How drunk are you?" He asked before looking at the vodka bottle clutched in the filmmaker's hand. "Oh. That drunk."

"You bastard," Mark hissed. Roger blinked at him and frowned. "I love you, you fucking asshole!" Roger stared at him.

"What the hell, Mark?" He said, frown deepening. "Are you still going on about that bullshit? Why don't you just fucking drop it?" He looked away from Mark and started tuning his guitar again. He didn't see Mark approach him. He didn't notice what was going on until he felt a sharp pain in his skull and heard a loud shattering.

"YOU FUCKER!" Mark shrieked at him. Roger stared up at him, shards of glass and drops of vodka falling from his hair. "I do everything for you! And all you ever fucking do is take and take! I'm the one who buys your AZT! I'm the one that helped you when April died and got you through your withdrawals! I'm the one that always reminds you to take your fucking meds! I'm the one that pushed you to see Mimi because I thought she'd be good for you! And what do I get?!"

Roger went to grab Mark and calm him down from this drunken stupor, but the filmmaker was surprisingly nimble and slipped from his grasp before he could get a good hold. Mark shoved Roger as hard as he could, sending him stumbling into the wall.

"I'll tell you what the fuck I get!" He screamed, advancing on Roger and grabbing his shit, slamming in against the wall. When the hell did Mark get this much strength? Roger couldn't speak. What the hell was wrong with Mark? "I get to be the one you fall back on when you need help. I get to pick you up off the ground and when everything is said and done I don't even get a fucking thank you! I got to watch you tremble and plead for a hit when you were going through withdrawal! I got to be the one you lashed out at too! I still have scars from it, Roger! I get to be the one looked over when everything's okay again! I get to be the one that cares about you more than anything! But, when everything's fine I'm just the filmmaker alone with his fucking camera!"

Roger stared at him. Confused and a little bit scared. Mark had never done anything violent like this before and he'd thrown Roger's own words at him. The words he's spat at him just before leaving for Santa Fe after Angel's funeral. Roger's head still throbbed where the bottle had been broken over it. Mark sniffled. He was starting to cry. He shoved Roger again and moved away from him.

"Mark-," Roger started, but Mark cut him off.

"I'm moving out tomorrow," He said before going back to his room. He didn't slam the door, just shut it quietly. For some strange reason that had more finality than a slammed door. Roger stood there, staring at the closed door for was seemed like an eternity. He gingerly touched his head where a lump was starting to form. No blood. That was a good sign at least. He cleaned up the broken glass and washed the vodka from his hair. Shit...he'd really fucked up. But he couldn't really see himself with Mark as anything but friends.

The next day when Roger pulled himself out of bed he found a stack of empty boxes by Mark's door. He frowned. What the hell? Mark came out with a packed box and looked at Roger before setting the box down. He grabbed another empty box and disappeared back into his room.

"Mark?" Roger inquired, going towards Mark's bedroom. When he reached the door way he saw Mark putting neatly folded clothes and film reals into the box. "What's going on?" Mark looked up at him.

"I told you," He said, going back to what he was doing. "I'm moving out." Roger frowned. Mark had been serious?

"Where are you gonna go? Do you even have a place lined up yet?" Roger asked. Mark nodded to his surprise.

"Yeah. Collins needs a roommate so I'm moving in with him," He replied. Roger scoffed and left with a mumbled 'yeah, whatever.' He found himself on the couch trying to get something done. When that didn't work he started playing Musetta's Waltz. He watched Mark as he did, hoping to get some kind of reaction. Nothing.

Two days later Mark was gone and the loft felt more cold and empty than it ever had before. It nearly drove Roger insane. And this was just two days! Two days without Mark there telling him to take his AZT or already up with coffee made by the time Roger came out of his room and he was already going nuts.

A few weeks later and Roger was about ready to rip his hair out at the silence. He had too much time to think through everything that had happened. He barely remembered the first time Mark had told him he'd loved him. He'd been so high then. He was lucky he remembered it at all. The way Roger had laughed at Mark. He then remembered the second time. That one was clearer.

Mark still loved him after what he'd put him through with the drugs, April, the withdrawals, and then the fact that he had HIV. He had said he had something he needed to tell him. He'd looked so nervous and Roger had laughed at him again. No fucking wonder he broke a bottle over his head the third time. He'd deserved it. Even when he was sober he didn't even consider loving Mark.

He buried his face in his hands, his guitar laying beside him on the couch. Even after everything Mark still loved him. Roger suddenly realized just how selfish he'd always been. He knew how bad he'd beaten Mark when he'd been going through his withdrawals. He'd been so crazed then, it scared him. He didn't know what to do. He knew he needed to apologize. But he couldn't bring himself too. He felt like he deserved this punishment. This loneliness. A taste of the loneliness that Mark probably felt all the time.

And the one thing that Mark craved and wanted so much he could never have because Roger was an idiot. He called Mark loving him a joke. He'd thrown it back into his face when he was just asking for the one thing he wanted more than anything. Roger's love in return. But could Roger give it to him? He didn't know. He didn't think he felt the same way about Mark, but he knew that he couldn't stand being without him like this.

It took another day before he was standing in front of Collins' apartment pounding at his door. He didn't even pause until the door was nearly ripped off of it's hinges. He stared at Collins and Collins stared back at him, looking ruffling from having just woken up. Collins sighed and shook his head.

"Roger, it's five in the morning," He said, moving aside so that Roger could come inside. "What's going on?"

"I have to talk to Mark," He said as he walked into the apartment. "I made a mistake." Collins shut the door and leaned against the wall beside it.

"Yeah," He said with a slow nod. "The kid's been in love with you since you two were in high school together. You fucked up pretty badly. He said you laughed each time he told you he loved you." Roger's eyes widened.

"He fucking _told _you?" Roger asked in surprise. Collins nodded, moving to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. "Why?" Collins looked at him like he really should know the answer to that.

"That kid has been through hell and back with you," Collins said, leaning against the counter. "He needed someone to tell his problems to. He couldn't take them to you since you just laughed in his face when he admitted his deepest feelings for you." Roger looked down at the tattered tiles and licked his lips.

"I-I know..." He said softly. "I just-...I couldn't think of us as anything but friends. But now...I'm going nuts there, Collins! I keep waking up and expecting him to be making coffee or out on the fire escape filming something, or on the roof. If I'm tired enough I start looking for him! And then I realize that he's gone and I just feel so-so..."

"Alone? Empty? Lost?" Collins supplied, quirking an eyebrow at him. Roger sighed and nodded. "That's how I felt when Angel died. Like a huge part of me was just...gone. Maybe now you'll understand that you need Mark the way he needs you."

"I just can't see myself loving him like that," Roger insisted. Collins chuckled.

"Maybe that's because you already do," He said, getting himself a cup of coffee. Roger stared at him as he did. Speechless. What? He didn't love Mark as anything but a friend! Collins turned around with his coffee made and took a sip. "Let me put this into perspective for you. What was the first thing you did when you came back from Santa Fe last year?"

"I went to the loft to find Mark," Roger replied instantly. Collins nodded and took another careful sip of coffee.

"And who was it that you depended on after April died?" Collins asked.

"Mark," Roger said softly. Collins nodded again.

"And who did you ask for help through your withdrawals? Who did you cling to?" The answer was the same as the last. Mark. Collins continued with the questions. Every answer had something to do with Mark. "See? Subconsciously you've already built your world around him. You already have feelings for him, but they're buried in your subconscious. You just have to dig them out with time."

"How-...I really don't think that I do..." Roger said with a sigh. Collins came towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You do. Just give yourself time, alright?" He said with a small, knowing smile. "Mark's asleep right now. You can hang out until he wakes up." Roger just nodded. He stayed at Collins' apartment, smoking an offered joint with him to calm himself down. It was probably around eight that Mark got up and came out to the living room. He stared at Roger when he saw him sitting on the couch.

"Mark...I-...I need to talk to you," Roger said, standing. Mark sighed and moved to sit down in a chair, tucking his feet under him. Collins stood and left the two alone without a word. "Mark, I don't-..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry I laughed at your feelings for me. I never realized it before but...maybe I do have feelings for you that are more than just friendship. I just...I just don't know. But...I'm willing to try and find out." Mark laughed.

"Roger...I expected you to not return them," He said, wiping at his eyes. There were tears in them. Roger chewed on his bottom lip before standing and moving towards him. He pulled him out of the chair and hugged him tightly. "Rog...please don't do this to me." Roger just held on to him tighter.

"Please...give me a chance to understand why I made you such a big part in my life," Roger pleaded. "I know I'm stupid for doing this, but...when you left it felt like everything was wrong. Please come home, Mark. I can't stand it there without you." Mark sighed and caved, wrapping his arms around Roger and hugging him back.

"Fine. I'll come back," He said, rubbing soothing circles into Roger's back. "But you're gonna have to work to earn my affections, Roger Davis." Roger laughed.

"I'll work my ass off," He said softly.

It was four months and four more 'I love you's from Mark before Roger gave him his answer.

"I love you too."


End file.
